


Good Intentions Always Lead To Hell

by Terran Dowling (Enby_Entity)



Category: Sastiel - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: And a very arrogant Dean refusing to admit his mistake, I keep promising fluffy sastiel and I keep delivering drama sastiel lol, Like sam does, M/M, SPNADVENTCALENDAR2019, We see a very upset Cas, While Sam ever the angel tries to rectify the situation, and I actually thought Destiel was what was causing me to write angst, anyway this is...hm...I'd say rather touching I think, day three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enby_Entity/pseuds/Terran%20Dowling
Summary: Christmas time is usually a time of stress for any family, and it's no exception for the Winchesters. While Sam and Cas are off spending their day together, Dean gets inspired to buy something decorative for the bunker. It was meant to be a good intention, but when Cas gets home, all hell breaks loose, and Sam has to come to the rescue. It's a learning experience for both Cas and Dean, even if Dean is an arrogant little shit and tries to resist the lesson Sam tries to teach him.
Relationships: Brothers Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 14





	Good Intentions Always Lead To Hell

Dean doesn’t usually go out of his way to help with Christmas. That was mostly Sam’s thing. Sam, Cas, and now Jack, were always pretty eager to decorate the bunker, or rather the den, for Christmas. Dean just doesn’t get why, since nobody but them will see it, and in a few short weeks they’d have to just take it down again anyway. It seemed like _such_ an effort for something that was hardly that important.

But alas, this year he also felt a little differently. Perhaps it was because of Jack. Perhaps Jack instilled in him a fatherly sense of duty for the holidays. Who knew? Either way, he found himself wandering into a Target one day early in December, and left twenty minutes later with what the tag said was an advent wreath, whatever that was. He just thought it looked cool with all its red and silver and four fake candles, one which was pink/rose color, and the other three which were a dark purple. As he placed it in the den on the coffee table, he thought the purple made it unique, different from the traditional Christmas colors, and thought the wreath would be warmly welcomed by his other bunker mates.

Little did he know.

Sam and Cas weren’t home until nearly seven that night, having spent most of the day together, ending it with a date night. The pair walked hand in hand into the den where Dean lounged upon the couch; he looked up from his kindle expectantly at the pair, automatically smiling at the love shining between the two.

“You two had a good date night, I take it?” he asked.

Cas nodded at him, while Sam (who’d just noticed the wreath) had become serious. He knew the meaning of it, and his brain was going into overdrive now with the urgency to keep Cas from seeing it.

Just as he was about to redirect Cas, he was too late.

Cas let out a sharp gasp. “What the hell is _that_ doing here?!”

Sam closed his eyes momentarily, counted to ten to regulate his breathing and steel himself for the drama that was about to ensue, opened his eyes, and looked at Dean to answer. Dean was standing now, staring at Cas with both confusion and self-defense.

“That’s a…I forget the name of it, but I found it in target. I thought it was cool.”

Cas looked at him with both hurt and anger, something Sam had known would happen.

“Cas, sweetie,” he tried to console, but Cas shrugged off his touch, glaring at Dean with a fierce intensity now.

“You thought this was _cool_?! Is this some kind of joke to you?! What the hell is the matter with you! Why in the hell would you buy something you didn’t know a thing about and bring it into this place?! Are you _trying_ to ruin Christmas? Are you??? WHY?! Fucking damn it, Dean Winchester!”

Sam watched as Cas turned and stormed out, momentarily reaching an arm out with the intent to stop him, only to let it fall back against his side knowing that Cas needed to let that steam off on his own. Instead of going after his beloved, Sam looked back at Dean who was looking a bit angry himself now.

“Dean…”

“That ungrateful bastard! I go out of my way to buy some stupid Christmas shit for god-knows-what-reason and this is the thanks I get?! Yelled at?! Jesus! No _wonder_ I never helped with the decorations. I must’ve instinctively known what a large pole was up his stupid, angelic ass.”

“ _DEAN!”_ Sam snapped, his deep voice booming in the room. “SHUT UP.”

Dean was breathing fast in his anger, but he kept his silence, glaring now at Sam as if this was all his fault. Sam ignored that part.

“Since you don’t even know the name of this, I can surmise you know nothing about what it means, so sit your fucking ass down and _listen_.”

When Dean didn’t immediately obey, Sam went over and shoved him onto the couch. “If you want peace in this place for Christmas, you better fucking swallow your damn pride and turn your ears on.”

Dean folded his arms against his chest, legit starting to pout, but Sam knew he was listening. As much as Dean refused to admit it, he cared for Cas and would try to do what he could to take care of the angel, especially since he meant so much to Sam.

Anyway. Time to teach.

“This here is an advent wreath.”

Dean’s face lit up with the memory. “Yeah! That’s what the tag said!”

“Great. Now _shush_. As you can see, this one has fake candles, which makes it a purely decorative piece, though I assume one could still use it for the symbolism it represents, if they so wanted, though it is better to do it with real candles. Anyway, this wreath is a very religious symbol. The wreath itself symbolizes continuous life. The circle it’s shaped into—and this is likely what’s tripping up Cas—signifies the eternity of God. It also signifies some other things but that’s the main one. Now, the candles: they got the coloring right, it is typically four candles for the four corners of the wreath, three are purple, and one is pink or rose colored.

“Each is to be lit for on the four Sundays before Christmas. Sometimes the wreath will have a fifth candle, in the middle, to be lit on Christmas day. The first, second, and fourth candles to be lit are the purple ones, the third is the pink one. Candle one represents hope, candle two faith, candle three joy, and candle four peace.”

Dean blinked at the unexpected fall to silence because that'd taken far less time than he thought it would; Sam's lectures usually went on for like...fifteen minutes, if not more.

“Is that it? I don’t get it, then.”

“Then you weren’t listening. The wreath represents God. God, Dean. Remember? He’s Castiel’s father? Abandoned him awhile ago?”

Dean looked incredulous.

“Dude, that happened ages ago! I thought he was over it.”

“There is no getting over your father abandoning you, Dean! We’re lucky, in a way, that our father never did that. Sure, he would be gone for very long lengths of time and we had to learn to fend for ourselves but he always came back, always kept us safe." He couldn't believe that he, of all people, was actually defending John Winchester. "Cas used to live for his father, used to have this great sense of purpose in life that revolved around Him. Losing that kind of faith is not a light matter, Dean, and I reckon no amount of time would ever fully heal that kind of wound. This wreath in a place that he had accepted as home is like salt in that wound.”

Dean, though he didn’t want to, now understood. He heaved a sigh as he got to his feet.

“Alright, I’ll go apologize and then get rid of it.”

Sam stopped him. “No. He needs time.”

“Sam—”

Sam knew what Dean had thought.

_He needs to get over it._

Which is precisely why he stopped Dean now.

“No. You talk to him tomorrow. Leave him alone for tonight. If you want to be useful, make good on your promise to get rid of that thing.”

“Twenty god damn dollars,” Dean grumbled as he walked towards it. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. Dean’s pride was ever an issue.

Anyway, Cas needed consoling, and Sam knew he was the only one that he [Cas] would allow to be close right now.

He found the angel in their room, sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his hands. There were no tears, but Sam could feel that they were there wanting out. The angel next to never cried, but there was a time for everything.

“Hey hon,” Sam greeted gently. Cas favored him with a little glance before returning back to his hands.

“Hello, Sam,” he greeted in a tone so full of pain that Sam visibly cringed upon hearing it.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Cas shrugged.

Now next to him, Sam offered Cas one of his hands, surprised when Cas almost immediately took it and held onto it with both of his. Sam could feel the trembling; Cas was using every ounce of his control to maintain his composure.

“So I explained to Dean what the issue pertaining that piece was. In typical Dean fashion, he doesn’t really fully get it, but he has agreed to get rid of it and is doing so now. I expect he’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Sam waited for Cas to respond, got nothing, and continued. “Listen, it’s okay to feel this way, you know.”

“I’m an angel, I don’t _feel_ ,” Cas muttered.

Sam laughed, unable to help it.

“Oh, Cas, believe me, you feel. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve made you feel all _kinds_ of things. You just don’t want to be feeling now.” Granted, sure, angels were usually emotionless beings but spend as much time upon Earth as Cas has, there was no escaping those pesky things called emotions.

“It’s really stupid.”

 _So, he thinks the same thing Dean does,_ Sam realized, _that he should've gotten over this by now._ The idea nearly broke his heart.

“It’s really normal, actually. You may be a celestial being, but you suffered a loss that would be hard on anyone, celestial or not. If anything, it's far worse for you because your father used to be your whole world, you literally lived solely because of and for him, and then you come to find out he’s not so perfect after all. Even worse, you come to find he’s abandoned you entirely; you and your siblings. In one fell swoop, you lost everything that ever made your world make sense. You may have found a little bit of that again with me, Dean, and Jack, but nothing will ever undo the amount of pain God has put you through. Cas, honey, it’s okay to feel this, no matter how much time has passed. Your feelings are valid.”

The tears that the angel had worked so hard to hold back finally spilled over.

“Come here,” Sam murmured, pulling with ease the angel into his embrace. “I’m sorry your father was a piece of shit. I’m sorry you’ve had to learn the hard way that he’s not all he made you think he was. But know this, Castiel, you are _very_ loved, by me, by Dean, by Jack, and most of your siblings. You are not alone. It’s okay.”

Cas clung to him tighter, soaking up every word of comfort Sam offered. It was only about ten minutes before the bout passed and he was looking at Sam in a brighter light. He might have been the celestial being, but Sam was the true angel here.

At his request to make love, Sam obliged whole heartedly. Every touch, every stroke, every sigh, and every moan washed away the pain and brought in a whole deeper level of love and affection. At the end, as Sam fell asleep for the night, Cas felt peace for the first time in years. Maybe someday he could stand to have a decorative piece like that in the home. Gazing down upon Sam now, he had faith that the human would help him heal in ways he never imagined.


End file.
